Page 19 of Wedding for My Werewolf

He spun on his heel and left, her shocked face lingering behind him as he stalked back to his office. He slammed the door behind him, still irritated by his mother’s tears and her efforts to manipulate him. Why had her disbelief bothered him so much? His wolf paced restlessly beneath his skin as he yanked off his jacket and tossed it over a chair.

A sharp knock cut through the silence. His nostrils flared—Callan’s scent carried through the door, mixed with snow and disapproval.

“Come in.” He crossed his arms as Callan entered, noting the tight set of the alpha’s jaw.

Callan was a big male, not quite as tall as Eric but with a heavier build. The alpha might be twenty years older than him, but he would never make the mistake of thinking that made him weak.

“Your mother called.”

“Of course she did,” he snapped “Come to talk me out of it?”

“A human mate? You’re smarter than this, Eric.”

“If you’re here to spew prejudice?—”

“This isn’t about prejudice.” Callan’s fist struck the wall, leaving a dent in the wood paneling. “It’s about history. About what happens when humans get too close to Pack business.”

“Robin is different.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you.” Callan stepped closer. “How much do you really know about this woman who appeared out of nowhere?”

His wolf surged forward, a growl building in his chest. “Enough.”

“Think about the Pack. About your position. About?—”

“I’ve thought about nothing else for years, and I still have no intention of becoming Alpha. My choice is made.”

Callan opened his mouth but before he could say anything, the door opened and Flora waltzed in. He bit back an exasperated sigh, hoping she wasn’t going to make things worse.

“Now, now, Callan,” Flora said cheerfully. “You’re not still holding onto ancient history, are you?”

Callan’s face shifted from anger to something Eric had never seen before—guilt.

“This isn’t?—”

“Isn’t what?” Flora’s eyes sparkled gleefully. “Isn’t like that summer by Miller’s Creek? When a certain someone convinced a certain alpha-to-be that humans weren’t so bad after all?”

Callan’s neck turned red.

“That was different. And you know what happened after?—”

“What happened was you let fear win.” Flora hooked a small green hand through Callan’s arm. “Now come along. I need someone tall to help me reorganize my bookshelf.”

“I don’t?—”

“Wasn’t a request, dear.” Flora winked at him as she steered a stunned-looking Callan toward the door. “Some wolves need reminding that the past is past.”

He watched them disappear down the street, Flora’s cheerful chatter fading into the distance, then shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. Trust Flora to defuse a confrontation by dropping a bombshell of her own.

But his smile soon faded and once again he found himself pacing his office. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, anxious to collect their mate. Their fake mate, he reminded himself, but the words rang hollow.

The memory of her eyes haunted him, the way they’d widened when he’d suggested this arrangement. The slight tremor in her hands as she’d listed her conditions. His wolf had recognized something in that moment—not just fear, but a deep, raw hurt.

The same hurt he’d glimpsed that evening by the river, reflected in the water’s dark surface.

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